Content
by piperholmes
Summary: Tumblr prompt: "You should write something about Ross doting on Demelza while she's pregnant." As you can imagine, there be fluff ahead.


**Content**

 **By: piperholmes**

 **A/N: Tumblr prompt: "You should write something about Ross doting on Demelza while she's pregnant." Hope this fits the bill! And thank you again for the reviews for my stories. I love writing, but I have no compunction admitting that reviews bring me joy and keep me wanting to write. So thank you!  
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 **Unbeta'd**

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With a dissatisfied grunt Ross Poldark opened his eyes.

The room was dark, testament to the late time Ross had left for more sleep. Unsure what had woken him, he rolled over onto is side, half-heartedly fluffed his pillow before settling down again, ready to drift back to oblivion.

And then he heard it.

Heard her sigh.

He froze, listening again, believing it to be the sigh of a dreamer, but when he felt her shift next to him, then shift again, and once more along with a second frustrated sigh, he rolled back towards her.

"What?" he croaked, his voice gravely from sleep.

She seemed genuinely surprised. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. Tis nothin'. Go back t'sleep," she whispered.

"That's not likely to happen," he grumbled. "What's amiss?"

"Just an ache," she answered. "in my hips, and the babe's awake and movin' about, and…"

"Yes?"

"Well I do feel a bit hungry," she confessed.

If Ross weren't so tired he would have smiled. "Is that _all_?"

"I told 'ee to go back to sleep," she snapped, effectively reminding Ross that he wasn't the only one who would have been pleased with a full nights rest.

Immediately contrite, Ross tired again, this time keeping his voice softer. "What can I do?"

His wife huffed. "There's nothin' for it. I'm not going back t'sleep anytime soon."

He felt the bed dip and shake as she struggled to get up. He moved quickly, kneeling up on the bed, his hands coming to her back and hip, helping her move to the edge of the bed and push up, not letting go until he was sure she was balanced.

"Put on a gown," he commanded, as he himself rolled out of bed, tugging on a pair of trousers.

"What ya doin'?" she asked.

"No idea," he answered. "But it seems rather unfair that you have to be up and uncomfortable while I rest contented in bed."

He heard Demelza laugh. "You are a strange man. Carrin' a babe is a woman's lot. Never heard of no man wantin' to join in the effort."

"It's much too early to deal with your sass," he replied, his reprimand playful. "Is there anything I can do to help with the ache?"

Demelza shook her head before realizing the darkness would make it difficult for him to see. "No. Standin' helps though."

"Very well. There's little I can do about the baby moving, but perhaps there is one thing I can help with."

He moved to the desk and lit a candle before reaching for her hand. The pair paused at the door, Ross, releasing her hand, ran back to the bedside, grabbing their slippers then knelt by her feet, noting the painful swell of her skin as he helped her step into them, then stepped into his own before once again grabbing her hand, leading her heavily pregnant body carefully down the stairs.

The kitchen was dark and cool, the end of spring making the days warm but keeping the nights chilly. He led her to the bench by the table, intent on helping her sit, but she shook her head, choosing instead to stand with her feet apart, leaning her hands on the table.

Ross, having no real understanding of what a woman's body went through carrying a baby, merely nodded then moved to the fireplace, making quick work of getting a small blaze going. An orange glow filled the room, making the shadows dance about like fairies on the wall, the faint smoky smell bringing the feeling of home. He crouched by the fire until he was certain the kindling had caught the larger logs aflame then set about the kitchen looking for what he needed.

He ignored Demelza's bemused smile as he opened a few incorrect cabinets.

"Can I help 'ee find anything?"

Her tone was light and he could hear her laughter. The dark look he shot her way did little to intimidate her, if anything it prompted her smile to grow bigger. His smart remark was cut short though when he finally found what he was looking for.

The silver of the toasting tongs sparkled in the low light, one of the few family heirlooms to survive the early days of Nampara's struggle from ruin. He grabbed the bread Demelza had made the previous day and set about cutting thick slices.

"When I was a child," he told her as he sliced, "one of my favorite treats was warm toast and butter. My mother used to make it for me if I were ill. Does that sound appetizing?"

Demelza's smile grew tender. Ross spoke so little of his life before her, especially of his parents, but she knew Grace Poldark held a special place in his heart. "That sounds perfect Ross."

She straightened, bringing her hands to stroke her belly, and gently rock side to side. It was something he'd seen her do before, but in the quiet stillness of the predawn hours, her hair loose about her shoulders, her gaze lazy with fatigue, he felt fission of excitement in his stomach. He did so love this woman.

He smiled widely at her, his cheeks dimpling from the effort. He moved to the larder, pulling out the butter, then set a slice of bread between the tongs and sat down by the fire.

Finally the added weight was too much for Demelza's back and ankles and she settled down on the bench behind him, her knees against his back, allowing him lean against her as the bread toasted in the flames.

"I've had a letter from a friend, he's a doctor I met during the war," he told her as they waited, him carefully turning the tongs to ensure the bread wouldn't burn. "Dwight Enys. He's coming to Cornwall within the fortnight to study the miners and their breathing problems."

"I'll be that glad t'meet someone who knew you in your wilder days," she teased.

Ross snorted. "I shall write him today and tell him not to come."

"Oh Ross," she swatted at his shoulder before allowing her hand to rest there, massaging gently.

"But I do owe him a debt," Ross answered seriously. "He more or less saved my life in America."

Before she could ask any more questions he stood, carefully removed the now warm and crispy bread slice from between the tongs and smeared a generous portion of butter, grabbing a plate and handing it to her to eat.

She smiled warmly at him then took a healthy bite of the treat. Her moan of delight sent a shiver of awareness through Ross, reminding him that it had been a few weeks since they'd been able to enjoy the more intimate part of marriage. He forced himself to think of Aunt Agatha and her chin hair as he watched the now melted butter run down her chin, her pink tongue shooting out to lick it up.

"Are you not going to have any?" she asked happily between large bites, the bread quickly disappearing.

He couldn't help it. She looked so happy, so content, so perfectly Demelza, and he felt pride, love, and peace pervade his soul. He leaned forward, his lips meeting hers in a gentle kiss, his hand moving to stroke where their now sleeping child rested safe.

He ended the kiss slowly, his lips lingering just above hers. "I believe I shall," he answered before once again partaking of life's greatest treat.

 **Thanks for reading!**


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